Guardian of the Crown
By Melissa McShane
Copyright 2017 Melissa McShane
Smashwords Edition
Table of Contents
Map
Cast of Characters
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
An Eskandelic Glossary
About the Author
Map
Cast of Characters
THE TREMONTANANS
Willow North—a thief
Felix Valant—eight-year-old King of Tremontane
Serjian Kerish—former dowser to Terence Valant and Willow’s ex-fiancé
Terence Valant—Felix’s uncle, usurper of the Crown of Tremontane
Giles Rafferty—a rebel lord
Rickard, Ellie, Fern, Kev, and Samuel—Rafferty’s fellow rebels
THE HAREMS OF ESKANDEL (Eskandelics put family names first)
The Serjian Principality:
Janida—vojenta (harem leader)
Kerish and Imara—her children
Maitea
Catrela
Amberesh, Gessala, Posea—her children
Giara
Jauman—her son
Alondra
Caderina—her daughter
Salveri—the Serjian Prince
The Serjian Allies:
Dekerian Mireya
Torossian Kharalin (Caroline)
Khasjabi Donia
Ajemi Sovea
The Serjian Enemies:
Abakian Raena
Gharibi Ciera
Hovanesian Melirra (allied with Gharibi)
Mahnouki Adorinda
Mahnouki Ghanetan—the Mahnouki Prince
Sahaki Beppinda (puppet of Mahnouki)
Sahaki Karalhi—the Sahaki Prince
Neutral:
Jamighian Issobela
Jamighian Vijenci—the Jamighian Prince
Hajimhi Fariola
Sarhafian Jennea
Takjashi Lucea
Najarhian Yesemia
OTHER ESKANDELICS:
Caira—Willow’s servant (zetesha)
Fedrani—Felix’s servant
Khurkjian Gianesh—keeper of the zoological collection
Abakian Terjalesh—Raena’s zuareto
Gharibi Cammean—Ciera’s zuareto
Hajimhi Jherjesh—Fariola’s son
Khazanjian Ojman—friend of Serjian Amberesh
Part Four
Chapter One
Willow’s golden gown whispered to her, swish-swish, as she passed through the corridors. It would be terrible for hiding in, what with its bright color and the sound of silken skirts rubbing against each other, but tonight she wasn’t going to hide. Tonight was for standing out, for keeping the attention and, she hoped, the good will of more than a score of women who needed to be convinced that their best interests matched those of Felix Valant. If they chose to reject Janida’s proposal…no, it wasn’t time to consider ways to make Felix disappear, because they hadn’t failed yet. And as far as Willow was concerned, they wouldn’t.
The hemispherical room in which the Serjian harem handled business was not just full, but overcrowded, with women dressed in variations on the clothes Willow and Caira had packed into Willow’s closet that afternoon. They were all engaged in low-voiced conversations that Willow could hear the murmurs of down the hall, but every one of them turned toward the door when she entered, and every voice fell silent.
Willow reflexively took hold of the door frame with her right hand, realized she’d left her left hand free to defend herself, and made herself let go of the smoothly painted wood. Focus, Willow, she told herself, orient, and let her inherent magic feel out the shapes of the women before her.
They all wore jewelry, necklaces and earrings and many, many bracelets, including the wide golden bracelets like Janida’s that Willow assumed were the mark of a vojenta. There were four other women wearing those bracelets, and Willow marked them by eye as well as magic.
Janida, of course, stood at the center of the room next to an elderly vojenta who wore a silky black headwrap that made her tan skin look lighter by comparison. Another vojenta stood well off to one side. She held a silver goblet (They’re not serving drinks like that, are they? How can I get out of that?) and wore a broad silver necklace like a collar studded with amethysts. Her short black hair fell loose around her face, which was narrow like Catrela’s and blue-eyed like Janida’s; she might have been about Janida’s age.
A third vojenta was at the center of a ring of women. She looked as if she’d been telling a story, and frequently pushed her long brown hair back behind her ears. The last was right next to Willow, close enough to touch, and Willow was startled to see that she was not Eskandelic. Her hair was as bright blonde as Felix’s despite her evident age—she was probably near fifty—and she was much taller than the women surrounding her.
She perceived Willow’s surprise and smiled at her, a friendly expression with none of the calculation even Alondra frequently displayed. Willow was accustomed to it, knew that attitude was just a reflection of the political realities of Eskandel, but the idea that the leader of a harem might be so unabashedly friendly was a surprise.
“Welcome, Willow North,” Janida said. “Sit and make welcome, all.”
The women settled onto sofas and cushions on the floor with a great rustling of skirts and trousers. Willow found a seat on a maroon sofa that made her skirt look orange and clasped her hands in her lap, and looked to Janida for some signal. The rest of the women seemed to feel the same way, because their attention turned to Janida, who’d remained standing. Janida settled her golden bracelets straighter on her wrists.
“Welcome,” she repeated. “It is good once again among friends to be. I have said to you all that Eskandel faces its greatest challenge in a century. Our northern neighbor Tremontane on the verge of civil war is. Terence Valant has laid claim to the Crown, which by Tremontane’s laws illegal is. He says the heir Felix Valant by an assassin killed was, but Felix Valant alive is and here under the protection of the Serjian Principality is. This principality asserts that Felix the rightful heir is and that Eskandel should recognize him as such, and return the Crown of Tremontane to him.”
The room was silent. Willow had expected at least some audible expression of surprise, but no one said a word. “Willow North the guest of the Serjian Principality is. She eskarna for the young King is.”
That got a response, women muttering to their neighbors and all of them staring at Willow. She stiffened her spine and gave them the look she gave Rufus Black when he tried to cheat her. Of course, Rufus’s cheating was always a joke between them, and she knew him well, unlike all these powerful women who were accustomed to political infighting and didn’t know anything about Willow except what Janida claimed. This is for Felix, he can’t do this for himself, she reminded herself.
“You claim eskarna in public?” said one of the women. Willow examined her, noted how her clothes
were plain and dark by comparison to the others, how she wore no jewelry, and concluded she was probably eskarna herself. Willow stood, made her hands relax by her sides, and fell into the comfortable stance she used when she was observing a place she meant to rob—knees slightly bent, shoulders straight, head and neck loose so she could quickly look in any direction.
“I know those who are eskarna work in secret, here in Eskandel,” she said. “It’s like that in Tremontane, too. If I were openly a thief there, I’d be punished or maybe even killed. But I’m told Felix can’t speak for himself here, and I think everyone should know why I’m qualified to speak on his behalf. A thief is what I am, and I’m not ashamed of that. And my skills are what got him out of Aurilien alive. So yes, I’m claiming eskarna in public, and I hope that demonstrates my desire to be open in my actions on the King’s behalf.”
“And you would have us support this King,” said the black-haired vojenta. “You would have us put Eskandelic lives in jeopardy.”
“I’m not going to dictate to Eskandel what kind of support to give Felix, though I have some suggestions,” Willow lied. She definitely hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I hope to convince you to support his claim, to refuse to recognize Terence Valant, and the rest will come later.”
“Felix Valant was killed by an assassin. An Eskandelic assassin,” the woman said. “You should prove otherwise to us before we consider your claim.”
“If you’ve heard that rumor, you probably also heard the assassin was the Eminence’s dowser. His name, in case you’re interested, is Serjian Kerish.” Another muttered reaction. “Kerish helped rescue Felix from the palace and was almost killed in the process. Terence thought he looked like a good candidate to pin his murder of his brother on, so he lied about Kerish’s involvement in the coup. He wants everyone to believe Felix is dead because he’s ruling illegally and Felix’s reappearance would set the provincial rulers of Tremontane against him even more than they are right now. I’m sure we can arrange for all of you to meet with Felix later, if that would help, but I give you my word that he’s who he claims to be.”
“Your word as eskarna.”
“My word as his guardian. As eskarna too, if that means more to you. I wouldn’t have done all of this if I didn’t believe he’s who I say he is.”
“What is ‘all of this’?” the blonde vojenta said. She spoke Tremontanese with a northwestern accent, something Willow hadn’t heard often in Aurilien but which was unmistakable.
Willow let out a deep breath. “I left my life behind,” she said. “My friends were endangered. I can’t return to my home unless Felix is restored to the throne. I was nearly killed by bandits and I’m in a country where I don’t even speak the language. Because of him—no, for his sake.”
“Dramatic,” said one of the women, a redhead who looked as if scowling were her permanent state. “Suppose we believe you for argument’s sake. The question most important is, why do we care?”
“You don’t, really,” Willow said, startling the woman. “It’s not your country and he’s not your King. You don’t have to do a damn thing except watch Tremontane go up in flames, taking your economy with it.”
She straightened a little. “I can’t say I understand much about the way countries trade with each other, but I’ve seen wars between the dukes—the criminal bosses—of Aurilien, and I know that when two dukes are fighting over territory, the wars hurt anyone who depends on the stability of those territories for trade.
“Usually such wars mean those people go elsewhere for what they need, which is complicated and almost always more expensive. So I’m pretty sure you’ll be increasing trade with Veribold for a while, maybe a long while. Which means, first, that you’ll be paying more for the same thing, Veriboldans being who they are, and second, you’ll lose out on the things that only Tremontane produces while that country resolves its problems. Or you’ll pay more for Tremontanan goods, funneled through the black market. But that’s really up to you.”
The room fell silent. Finally, the brown-haired vojenta said, “You speak with force. Janida, you support this woman?”
“Serjian Principality stands behind her,” Janida said, emphasizing the first two words slightly.
The vojenta stood up, prompting five women nearby to stand as well. “Ajemi Sovea swears that Ajemi Principality will stand with Serjian in this thing,” she said.
“Willow North,” said the black-haired vojenta, “can you guarantee Tremontane will follow your King?”
“I can’t,” Willow said, then wished she’d lied, because the woman’s eyes flashed with amusement. Mistake!
“Honesty in eskarna is of the most importance,” the woman said, rising from the floor and bringing three other women with her. “Khasjabi Donia speaks for the Khasjabi Principality, which stands with Serjian in this.”
“As does Dekerian,” said the woman in the black headwrap, “by oath of Dekerian Mireya.”
Willow looked down at the blonde woman, who hadn’t moved. “You’re from Aurilien?” the vojenta said.
“Born and raised. This is the first time I’ve been out of the capital,” Willow said.
“I was born in Barony Daxtry,” the woman said. “I’ve lived in Eskandel since I was twelve, and it’s my adopted home, but I respect the place of my birth and I don’t want to see it ruled by an Ascendant any more, I think, than you do.” She stood and offered her hand to Willow. “Torossian Kharalin, or Caroline Anders as was, and Torossian Principality stands with Serjian in this.”
“Thanks,” Willow said, clasping Kharalin’s hand.
“We’ll have to speak later. You have the look of someone bursting with questions,” Kharalin said with a smile. “But for now I think we have strategy to plan.”
“We will need the question on the roster to be written,” Mireya said. “I think we will have the better of Mahnouki if we can keep this secret. Surprise, and curiosity, friends to us are.”
“Mahnouki has spies,” the dark-clad eskarna said, with some scorn. Willow guessed spies weren’t the same thing as eskarna. “But I think Catrela and I can misdirect them.”
“I have conceived ideas,” Catrela said with a nod. “But we must not too soon put our question to paper. It too easy to find will be.”
“Understood,” Janida said. “In three days the Princes vote. Salveri prepared on this matter to speak is, Serjian Principality its sponsor to make. This we do first, Willow North. All principalities wish things enacted to be, decisions made to be, but too many to vote in Conclave there are. Thus does each principality with a thing they desire add this question to the roster, which brought to the harems is the morning before the Princes vote on which of those questions will be deliberated and voted on in Conclave and which will not.
“The harems decide and tell their Princes. It is meant that no principality has time to instruct another on how its Prince should vote, which things to vote against, but many times the roster…is found by some harems in advance. We must give Mahnouki no time to control the vote, because Mahnouki Adorinda will not wish this question to be part of the adjeni, the final list of questions to vote. Better for her that it rejected at the start is.”
“What can I do?” Willow asked.
“We will prepare our strategy as if this on the adjeni is. Otherwise…no point in acting at all. You must learn those we will try to sway and those we must…neutralize, the word is. Then you will know which words to which principality to speak.”
“There much to learn is,” Mireya said, “and three days in which to learn it. Are you prepared, eskarna?”
“Not really,” Willow said, sending a laugh rippling through the room, “but I guess I have to be.”
“Indeed,” Janida said. “Then tomorrow we will begin.”
This seemed to be the sign for everyone to rise and begin chatting in Eskandelic, which told Willow she was free to leave. She nodded at Catrela and left the room. Once outside, she walked down the hall until she was out of sight
of the door, then leaned against the wall and let out a deep breath. And that had been a gathering of…not friends, but at least allies, and people friendly to her cause. How much worse would it be facing her enemies?
She leaned down to unfasten her soft shoes, which pinched at the toes. She wished she’d come up with a reason to wear her own shoes, specially made by her to be perfect for midnighting, but Caira had made a face Willow interpreted as “stop being a heathen foreigner” and Willow had given in. Would she be able to wear them again here in Umberan, ever? If she got caught midnighting, it would look very bad for Felix…on the other hand, suppose she had to learn something, or take something, that would aid his cause?
She rolled out her shoulders. She was certain she wouldn’t start making up reasons to climb the walls of Umberan. Mostly certain. Certain enough that she wouldn’t ask Caira to hide her shoes as a precautionary measure.
The lights were off in the stairwell leading to her and Felix’s room, which seemed odd. She looked around for a switch like the ones that operated the lights in her room before remembering there were no switches in the halls; the lights burned all day and all night. Well, it wasn’t as if she weren’t used to working in the dark. She began ascending the stairs. There were no lights coming from—
She cursed and ran up the stairs. No lights in the stairs, no lights in the hall. As if in tandem with her horrified thoughts, a scream echoed down the stairwell, then another, and a high, frantic yapping filled the air. She yanked her stupid skirt out of the way and tore down the hallway, shouting, “Felix!”
“Willow!” Felix screamed. “Help!”
Willow yanked at her sleeve, which was too tight thanks to her knife—she’d insisted on wearing it and overridden every one of Caira’s protests. She tore it free from its sheath, heedless of ripping fabric, and flung open the door to her room. The only light came from the half-moon just visible through the windows, but Willow’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness on her flight and she could see the hulking forms of two men tussling. Ernest’s silvery-gray form darted around them, yipping wildly. Felix wasn’t visible anywhere.
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